Imanji was gone.Not standing. Not moving. Just… done. The fight behind him had taken everything Orion had, and then some. His vision blurred at the edges, gray creeping in like fog. But he could still see them—UF fighters locked in chaos with the White Shadows. Brothers and sisters throwing themselves into a fight that had stopped making sense a long time ago.
The sounds were ugly. Fists hitting bone. Wood snapping. Men groaning—not in rage, not even in pain, but in that broken way people sound when survival is the only thing left.
"Zain…" Orion whispered. The name barely made it out.
He knew where he needed to be. The center of the field—where Zain and Mahir were supposed to be fighting. But it felt impossibly far away. WS fighters stood between him and that point, watching, waiting. Predators.
He tried to move. His legs didn't listen. Heavy. Useless.
I can still do this, he told himself. A lie, but a necessary one.
He swung at a shadow passing by. The punch was slow. Weak. Barely real. He took one more step. His heart slammed against his ribs, off-beat and frantic.
Then the world tipped.
The ground came up fast—cold, hard. Orion never felt it. Darkness swallowed him whole, leaving him still while the battlefield roared on without him.
Alice moved through the edges of the fight like a blade through cloth.
He was too clean. Too focused. His fight with Rui hadn't drained him—it had sharpened him. While UF fighters were running on fumes, Alice ran on obsession. Mahir was still standing, and that was unacceptable.
His chain hissed as it moved, silver flashing through dust. Anyone who got in his way didn't last long. Fabric tore. Skin split. The sound was wet and rhythmic. He didn't fight—he cleared space.
Straight toward the center.
At the heart of it all, the air felt heavier.
Zain and Mahir stood facing each other, surrounded by the wreckage they'd created. They looked half-dead—faces streaked with grime, sweat pouring down, lungs fighting for air. But the energy between them was still alive. Burning.
Mahir moved first.
His punch came in like a collapsing wall. Zain met it head-on.
The impact cracked through the air.
Mahir leaned close, breath hot, voice low. "You've got heart," he said. "But heart doesn't beat physics. You're swinging at a giant with nothing but hope."
Zain felt it. His arm screamed. His bones vibrated from the collision.
Then—something shifted.
Not a thought. Not panic. Just clarity.
A voice, cold and steady, cut through everything.
Kick him.
Zain didn't hesitate. His body turned before his mind caught up. His shin slammed into Mahir's stomach.
The sound was dull. Hollow.
Mahir's eyes widened. Air exploded from his lungs as he slid backward, boots carving lines through the dirt.
Zain stood there, gasping.
Listen, he realized. This thing knows.
Jump.
He did.
Mahir charged through the dust just as Zain launched upward. Midair, Zain twisted, every ounce of strength pouring into his heel.
The kick landed clean against Mahir's temple.
Mahir hit the ground.
For a moment—just one—it felt like it mattered.
Then Mahir was back on his feet.
Too fast. Too strong.
Before Zain could even land, a massive hand caught his face. Fingers closed like steel. Mahir roared and threw him across the field.
Zain rolled, skin scraping raw against dirt and stone. He barely stopped himself before looking up—
Silver flashed.
Alice.
He came in flying, kick aimed straight for Mahir's throat. Beautiful. Desperate.
Mahir caught him midair.
One hand. No hesitation.
He slammed Alice straight down. The ground cracked.
"Alice—get out!" Zain yelled. "This is mine!"
Alice didn't listen.
His chain whipped out, tearing deep into Mahir's chest. Five long gashes opened up, blood running freely.
Mahir didn't even blink.
He stepped inside the chain and struck Alice's neck—clean, precise.
Alice dropped instantly. Chain clattering. Eyes empty.
Zain stared at Mahir's hands up close. They were wrong. Thick. Reinforced. Built to end fights before they began.
Now he understood.
Zain straightened. Closed his eyes for half a second. Let the voice settle him. Pull him together.
"Do you remember your promise?" he asked quietly.
Mahir glanced at the blood on his chest, then smiled. Dark. Almost impressed.
"Promises are for survivors," he said. "First—beat me."
Zain shifted into a stance that felt old. Dangerous. Right.
The wind stirred. Rain threatened.
"Come," Zain said.